


BangBang

by catty_the_spy



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catty_the_spy/pseuds/catty_the_spy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurel Hastings, reaped at sixteen, has a few things on her mind. Namely: fuck Katniss, fuck Peeta, and fuck their stupid son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BangBang

Laurel is reaped with Batches Mellark, the son of not one but two Victors.

She’s doomed.

She says as much to everyone who comes to visit her – her mom, her sister, her Pawpaw.

She even says it to the one and only Katniss Mellark.

Peeta starts in on a spiel about strategies, but Laurel cuts him off.

“Don’t bother.”

“What?” Katniss snaps.

Laurel looks her in the eye. “I plan to jump from the platform early, so there’s no point planning anything for me. We shouldn’t draw this out.”

She shakes Batches’ hand. “Good luck in the Games.”

Then she goes in search of her room, followed by Haymitch Abernathy’s laughter.

 

* * *

 

Katniss and Peeta received a helpful note from the President explaining the consequences of a childless marriage, so they obediently produced a single child – Batches Mellark. He had his mother’s hair and eyes and his father’s size and features. His birthday was accompanied by a fresh shipment of food and an interview. It was awful. It was worth it.

He had seven years of happy, heavily televised childhood before his mother sat him down and told him his odds.

Then he trained.

Katniss felt guilty sometimes, thinking about the happy childhood her sister had even in the depths of poverty. Then she let the guilt turn into hatred of the Capitol.

Those were the people who were really at fault.

 

* * *

 

Haymitch finds Laurel while they’re stopped to refuel.

Laurel raises her eyebrows at him. “Is this where you tell me to make nice and not give up hope?”

“Course not, sweetheart. We both know who they’re rooting for.”

“What then?” She smiles. “Offer me a drink?”

“You don’t have to play nice, but consider playing the game a little. Give us all a show before you go.”

“The last romp of a dying child.”

Haymitch toasts her with his glass of whiskey. “That’s the spirit. Have a little fun. Who knows, you might decide to stick around.”

Laurel snorts. “Fat chance of that.”

Haymitch shrugs easily. “Maybe. But think about it; Batches is gonna have a target on his back. That might work to your advantage.”

 

* * *

 

When Batches was twelve, Katniss sweat through the reaping. She was lucky. Two kids from the Seam were chosen to die.

And they would die. Peeta was the only one who ever hoped for success. He and Effie told the kids they had a chance. Katniss and Haymitch knew the truth.

 

* * *

 

Laurel thinks the Capitol is amazing. The luxury, the colors, the food. She’s going to enjoy it as much as she can before she dies.

Batches waves at the spectators crowding the train. Laurel doesn’t’ bother. She doesn’t want their love. She wants the things they can give her – the food, the clothes, the technology.

“Enjoy yourself,” Haymitch had said.

Laurel wants to be pretty. She wants to be full. She wants computers and elevators and floor to ceiling windows. Haymitch is right: she should enjoy herself.

 

* * *

 

Katniss made sure to show Batches footage from every game. They were approaching a hundred. He would have aged out by then.

Two merchant children died in the 88th Games. Katniss made plans to focus more on long blades with her thirteen year old son.

It was coming. She could feel it.

 

* * *

 

Laurel sips hot chocolate with Cinna.

“Do you hate them for choosing their son over you?”

“Not really,” Laurel replies. “I just don’t want to drag things out. I don’t want them to pretend they give a shit.”

Cinna nods. Laurel expects him to rebuke her – he is friends with Katniss, after all. Instead he flips through his sketchbook with a thoughtful expression.

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” he says at last. “The winner isn’t set in stone.”

Laurel shrugs. The winner may not be set in stone, but when the sponsor money rolls in, she knows who’ll get every penny.

Cinna turns the sketchbook to face her. “Try to go out with a bang.”

 

* * *

 

District Twelve’s male tribute made it to the final five in the 89th Games. Batches was fourteen years old. He came with them to the Capitol to do interviews, which have been increasingly scarce as he aged.

Portia, as one of District Twelve’s designers, had dressed all of the male tributes that came after Peeta. Batches was friends with her by the time they left.

It was important to have your designer on your side.

 

* * *

 

At the parade, Laurel is an explosion of light, studded with diamonds and pearls that shine from within. She is blinding, painful to behold. She is beautiful.

She ignores Batches and plays with the crowd, laughing and waving and blowing kisses. She even waves to President Snow as they pass. No one is shouting her name, but it’s easy to pretend the roses and screams are for her.

It occurs to her that the Capitol might pay more attention to her than the Mellarks ever will. Maybe Cinna is right. Maybe she can go out with a bang.

Batches is terse with her as they get out of the chariot.

She makes fake apologies to Katniss and Peeta and plays nice with Batches. When no one else is watching, she winks at Haymitch.

He gives her a tiny nod.

“Interesting game you’re playing, kid,” he says, when everyone else is in bed or hiding from the world.

She grins. “I figured this was more fun. Go out with a bang.”

Haymitch grunts. He’s probably drunk; when isn’t he?

“Remember to keep your eyes and ears open,” he says.

 

* * *

 

The 91st Hunger Games brought the waiting to an end. Batches was reaped at sixteen.

He and a tiny slip of girl from the Seam boarded the train together. The girl was crying when she was reaped, but she’d changed to scowls while they ate.

Laurel Hastings was the girl that had to die if things went according to plan, and every single one of them knew it.

 

* * *

 

Laurel watches Batches flit from one station to another. They agreed to focus on different things while they searched for allies. From the looks of it, he isn’t focusing on anything. He lingers a little at the climbing station. Maybe all that bulk gets in his way.

Laurel knows how to hurt a man – she has to. It’s part of growing up on the wrong end of the slag heap. She learns to build a better fire, and to climb, and the proper way to wield a knife as a weapon. She doesn’t hold anything back.

The guy from District One – Marble or Magnus or Musgravite – is eyeing her.

His district partner, Vicuna, is busy with ranged weapons, so Laurel takes the opportunity to pull her top tighter around her breasts. She might be able to work this to her advantage.

Male One is a leerer. He slaps Shear’s ass over during lunch, and he openly brags about the girls he’s slept with.

“What are you doing?” Batches hisses in the elevator.

“What?” Laurel says in her most innocent voice.

“You were flirting with Magnus!”

Magnus. It sounds like such a Two name, but there’s a grandness to it Laurel can appreciate.

“It was nothing. You won’t understand.”

Batches backs her into a corner, framing her so she can’t duck away. “Make me understand.”

“It’s nice to be looked at by a guy who doesn’t expect anything. Satisfied?”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of scheme you’re brewing but I-”

Laurel spits in his face.

They’re spared a fight by the elevator stopping on their floor.

Laurel marches to her room while Batches flounces towards the dining area, probably crying to mommy.

She doesn’t _like_ Katniss; she _hates_ Batches.

 

Peeta knocks on her door a few hours later. She only barely keeps from snarling at him. “Tell your son I dislike being crowded.”

She manages to be something approaching polite. She tries a little for Peeta; he at least has the grace to look guilty for wanting her dead.

“Katniss thinks it would be best if you and Batches trained separately from now on.”

“Fine by me.” She knows enough about Batches now anyway.

Peeta hovers in her doorway like he wants to apologize – or worse, have a heart to heart. Instead he sighs and steps back.

“Dinner is waiting.”

What can she do with this Magnus situation? It’s probably too much to hope he thinks with his dick.

 

* * *

 

Katniss and Peeta sat down with Haymitch while the tributes said goodbye to the people in Twelve.

“I can’t mentor her,” Katniss said. Peeta squeezed her hand.

“I’ll take the girl,” Haymitch said, already into his third drink of the morning. “You two focus on your kid.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Peeta said. His eyes were red. He had always been more emotional than the rest of them.

“We should still collaborate on some things,” Peeta continued. “I don’t see why we can’t at least try to present a united front.”

“No,” Katniss said, as forcefully as she could. “I don’t want her involved. The whole point is to bring Batches back. She’ll just be dead weight.”

“We can’t just do nothing!”

“We’ll work it out as we go,” Haymitch said before there could be a fight. “We still need to see who we’re up against.”

Haymitch was right. There was no use fighting about it.

Katniss knew that whatever Peeta said, she wasn’t going to work the girl into her plans. Her priority was Batches. She couldn’t get attached to anyone else.

 

* * *

 

Batches apologizes to her after dinner. “We’re all in a very stressful situation,” he says, “and sometimes that can lead us to do and say things we’re not proud of. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“It’s fine,” Laurel says. “No hard feelings.”

“I hope you have a good day in training tomorrow.”

“Ditto.”

They shake hands. One or both of them was acting. She knows which one she is.

 

* * *

 

Up until Batches was nine, Prim brought her daughters to play with him in Victors Village. She had a job in the apothecary. She was lucky; she and Rory didn’t live in the Seam.

“I don’t know,” she said one day, watching her girls play in the dirt while Batches waved a stick around.

“What don’t you know?” Katniss asked.

She liked watching her sister in times like this – seeing her blonde hair pulled into a neat bun, the worn but still pretty dress, the knitted shawl, the sturdy shoes. Prim was successful. It was nice to think that something good had come from all this, that it was worth it to stay inside the lines. Katniss and Peeta had done their part, so Prim was allowed a nice house and a good job and two healthy children.

“Daisy and Bluegrass didn’t want to come,” Prim said. “They wanted to visit you and Peeta, but when I framed it as visiting Batches they dragged their feet. I thought Blue was going to cry.”

The girls were in their own little world, making grass people to go in their dirt houses. They looked like good little merchant girls – even Daisy’s dark hair and Seam complexion couldn’t change it.

“It’s been getting worse and worse each time. I don’t like having to bribe them with sweets so they’ll want to see their family.”

Katniss felt a weight settle in her stomach. “You don’t want to visit anymore.”

“I want to visit. I will visit,” Prim corrected. “I won’t bring the girls as much; for family dinners, not to play. I’m sorry Katniss.”

Katniss raised a hand to smooth Prim’s hair. “Don’t be, little duck.”

 

* * *

 

“Trying to get in with the careers?” Haymitch asks. “Can’t say I recommend it.”

“You got any better ideas?”

Haymitch concedes the point. “What’s your ticket? Sex appeal may work on Magnus, but the rest of them are smarter.”

“Vicuna might let me in as a toy,” Laurel says. “Canus and Adriana will be the hard sells. I can’t see that I have anything to impress them. As for the other two…”

“Four will like that you hold your own,” Haymitch says. "I’ve already talked to their mentors. Do enough to be competent – otherwise Two will kill you for sure – but don’t be so competent they see you as a threat.”

“How should I play for the cameras?”

“The act you’re giving me won’t hurt.”

Laura scoffs. “What act? The only person I act for is that two-headed monster upstairs.”

“See, you’re doing perfectly. Now go shove your tits in Magnus’s face.”

Laura winks. She does like Haymitch. They have an understanding.

 

She works on her knots and her aim. Then she drifts to the weights, where Magnus, Canus, Vetch from District Eleven, and both District Four tributes are competing.

“Anything we can help you with?” Canus says.

Magnus switches to a heavier weight.

Laurel shifts her stance so her chest is more prominent and hooks her fingers into the waist of her pants.

“Can I have a go?”

Canus smirks. “You sure you can handle it little girl?”

Weak enough that Magnus won’t feel emasculated; strong enough that Canus won’t shoo her away.

Laurel knows this game.

“I think I have a shot.”

 

By the time the interviews come around, she has Magnus hooked by the seat of his pants. He likes his girls with fight, but he wants to be stronger than them. She's not sure how long her luck will last - he'll ditch her once it's time for the real killing to start, and how is she going to get rid of him and the rest of the careers? She doesn't have the training.

At least she knows what she's in for. If she was allied with Batches and Vetch and Shear, she'd never be sure when that axe would fall.

She earns a solid six with the gamemakers. Not too high, not to low. Batches gets a perfect twelve.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Peeta asked, while their son bloodied his knuckles against the side of the house.

“What can we do?”

Peeta sighed. There were lines of worry etched into his face. They’d disappear the next time they visited the Capitol.

Maybe they could have let him grow up ignorant to the danger that surrounded him. Maybe they could have waited till he was eleven and the nearness of his first reaping did the work for them.

And maybe Katniss would have ruined it all with her own fears.

Maybe she already had.

Batches stopped to shake out his arm.

There was no turning back.

Katniss firmed her stance. “Good. Again!”

 

* * *

 

Laurel walks on stage covered in diamonds and glass. She feels like she shines brighter than the stage lights.

There’s a buzz under her skin. False lashes weigh down her eyes. Even they are sprinkled with diamond dust.

“You look dangerous,” Caeser says with an exaggerated gasp.

Laura smiles. “Be careful; we don’t want you to get hurt.”

She mentions her sister, Holly, and a life of fighting in Twelve. It’s all normal boring interview dreck. Then Caesar gets to the question he’s clearly been dying to ask.

“What’s it like working with Panem’s Lethal Lovers?”

Laurel snorts. “Work with them? I’ve barely seen them. They have better things to do with their time.”

The audience gasps.

“You mean to tell me they haven’t mentored you at all?”

“I’ve been working with Haymitch. All they care about is their asshole son. I’m just here for the food.”

“Then I take it you aren’t Batches Mellark’s biggest fan.”

“It’s hard to be a fan of someone who expects you to just lie down and die.”

“So what are your plans?” Caesar asks, searching for a spin. “Aren’t you worried about sponsors?”

“Sponsors?” Laurel throws her head back and laughs.

There’s another gasp from the crowd. Someone shrieks.

A spot has appeared on Laurel’s dress. It grows quickly until the entire bottom of the dress is stained blood red.

Laurel leans towards Caesar and gives him a toothy smile. “I plan to go out with a bang.”

 

Katniss almost kills her backstage. Laurel is still laughing, at her, at Peeta and the avoxes trying to hold Katniss back.

Poor pissy Katniss almost manages to land a scratch. Laurel laughs harder, until tears mingle with the diamonds in her lashes.

She didn’t make that target any bigger than it already was.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think?” Katniss whispered to Haymitch while they waited for the countdown to start. “Do you think Batches will be okay?”

“I think President Snow hates you,” Haymitch replied. “I’m surprised your boy made it to sixteen.”

It wasn’t reassuring. Then again, if reassurance was what she wanted, she shouldn’t have asked Haymitch.

She looked to her left, where Peeta was sitting in anxious silence. He’d give her a hopeful smile if he caught her looking; that wasn’t what she wanted either.

Katniss looked at the screen, where both District Twelve tributes were shown, preparing to leap. Laurel didn’t “slip”. After that interview, Katniss supposed she couldn’t be surprised.

 

* * *

 

Laurel thinks about jumping again on the platform. She thinks about a lot of things, but jumping is the biggest. As soon as they get rid of the real competition, the careers are going to turn on her. She doesn't want her death drawn out.

It’s easy to dismiss the idea. Her longing for an easy death is nothing compared to the thirst she has. She wants to outlast Batches. She wants to tell Katniss Everdeen Mellark where to shove it. She wants Peeta to choke on his phony guilt.

She wants to go out with a bang.

It’s time. Laurel heads for the cornucopia.

**Author's Note:**

> A blend of book and movie canon. A bit of outsider pov on Katniss and Peeta coaching family through the Games.


End file.
